


When it's Over

by fyredancer



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:58:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This could be the beginning of the end, but Tom knows he has one thing forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When it's Over

**Author's Note:**

> If you swing that way, this could be Tom/Bil if you squint.

Tom lingered outside the board room and waited for Bill to emerge.

Most of the time, they presented a united front to label executives. They stayed together, the way they micro-managed every aspect of their band together. Sometimes there were meetings like this one, where Bill would give him a subtle signal that he wanted to ask something of management that Tom might not like, so he wanted a moment alone. Today's had been, "Tom, go get me some water."

Bill came out of the boardroom with a thoughtful frown settled on his brow, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click that underscored the contrast with how he typically bounced them against frames after one of these meetings. Tom reached forward and tugged at Bill's newly-trimmed forelock, making his twin brush his hand away with an irritable look.

"What's going on?" Tom prompted, as they fell into step together. He stuck his hands in his pockets. He wasn't sure if Bill even noticed, but they always put the same leg forward first, wherever they went.

"I asked about record pre-sales for the album," Bill replied, taking a grip on his handbag as though he was going to swing it at someone. His irritated look had settled on his profile; his lips were thinned.

"So what's going on with the pre-sales?" Tom said, suddenly weary.

"They're not good," Bill admitted after a moment. "One of the execs actually said he thought the album was going to flop."

Tom let out an incredulous little laugh. "That's insane. We haven't even released yet."

"Yeah, well, they talk like they think they know," Bill said tensely, wrapping an arm around his front.

"Hey," Tom said, reaching out. He touched Bill's shoulder, and they halted. Bill's eyes were glimmering, but not upset. He was pissed. "It's way too soon for them to say shit like that."

"That's what I said," Bill murmured fiercely.

Tom lifted his chin. "That's all?" he said, a laugh lurking somewhere nearby.

"Wanted to tell them to fuck themselves," Bill admitted. "We sunk a lot of money into this album."

"I know," Tom said ruefully. He'd actually taught himself how to budget, the hard way. Getting sharply reduced dividend checks had been something of a shock. "No Lamborghini for Tom, huh?"

Bill laughed at him. "We'll see what Father Christmas has to say. If you're good."

They resumed their walk up the long narrow corridor. Their shoulders bumped, even though there wasn't so little space that they had to remain so close.

"What else?" he prompted after a moment, sensing there was a bit more to Bill's anger than this unexpected piece of news.

"Tom," Bill began.

Tom _hated_ that tone. It was the one Bill opened with when there was something he knew Tom wasn't going to like. Yet better from him than one of those stuffed suits; it was why Bill asked him to leave the room, after all.

"Just...out with it."

"They didn't like the way we played footsie with each other during the latest round of promo," Bill said, his words sounding as though they'd come from someone else's mouth.

Tom shook his head a little. "I'm so goddamned tired of this," he said after a moment. "We're _twenty_ , we do practically everything they ask of us, and now they want to take this away from us, too? It's all we've got left – what we do with our hair, and being who we need to be with each other."

"I know," Bill said, rubbing his arm a little. "Believe me, I know."

Tom hated that he couldn't even touch his twin in public without it getting analyzed and over-analyzed from five different angles. Half the time they didn't even realize they were doing it; it was only natural for them. As Bill had declared long ago, his personal space was Tom. So they got comfortable on a couch somewhere, propping each other up when the only thing fueling them was Red Bull and coffee atop the two hours of sleep, and someone caught an interview vid and thought they were 'too close.' Again. Then followed the dreaded talks from management.

"I don't care what they think," Tom said. He didn't have to look to see the way Bill's mouth twisted.

"I know," Bill said again.

Tom didn't ask Bill for his opinion on the matter. Bill only brought it up to let him know it had happened again; not because he was asking him to change how they were. They couldn't. Twenty years of togetherness was all they were.

You can't disentangle the instincts of love so easily, Tom thought.

"So, the outlook is doom?" Tom said, brushing the side of his twin's hand with his pinky as they walked toward the elevator. "This is the beginning of the end?"

Bill turned his head to give Tom a smile that was equal parts challenging, and confident. "I'll say when it's over," he said, flicking short wisps of flat-ironed bang out of his eyes. The prickly jet-black strands at the sides of his new 'do looked like Tom wanted to reach up and touch, and see if that newly-exposed hair was soft as it looked. "And not a moment before."

Tom believed him. Bill had been the one to say they were on, that they would make it, that they would play arenas some day even if he'd never imagined how far.

When they reached the garage deck level, Bill reached over and tapped his shoulder. "Take me somewhere," he said.

"Where do you want to go?" Tom wondered aloud, fishing his keys out of one ample pocket after patting himself down for a tell-tale jingle.

Bill shrugged. "Somewhere with no city lights," he said, wistful.

Tom was quiet for a minute. It would take hours. They had an open schedule tomorrow, a couple of free days before the next spate of travel. It would be okay if they slept in. "All right," he said.

They got into the car and Tom drove, and drove. He put on the music they both liked. He loved driving, and he was glad for that – it was one of the things they had left; one private space where the jeers and bitterness and poorly-masked envy that had followed them since middle school couldn't reach them. Even today it was the same insults coming from older mouths. After a while Bill's hand settled atop his on the gearshift, and they both relaxed.

There was a car-park about forty kilometers outside of Hamburg where they stopped sometimes to take a smoke break on the way to their mother's. Tom found it as the sun was sending a last flare of colored tendrils over the smudge of gray horizon. Bill got out and leaned, the slump of his shoulders conveying fatigue despite his earlier fierceness.

"Hey," Tom said, coming around the side to join him. They leaned against the Audi together, Bill's boot nudging Tom's sneaker. Tom was pretty sure Bill didn't even realize he was doing it. How could they stop now?

"Hey," Bill answered, bestowing Tom with the sweet smile that no camera ever saw.

Tom grinned back, and bumped their shoulders together. They didn't even need to say it; that they were going to be okay, that this dire prediction wasn't anything more than a bump in the road. It made Tom think, though. They'd been so lucky so far, on top of all their hard work and talent and Bill's incredible drive. Still...

Someday they would be nobodies again, just a couple of kids from Loitsche. Tom was looking forward to that day. They could just be themselves, just with each other.

“Some day all of this will be over,” Bill murmured beside him, shading his hand over his eyes as he looked up at the stars. “It'll be behind us, done with, but it'll be okay.”

Tom hummed an inquiring note.

“Because you'll still be with me,” Bill said with quiet certainty.

“Always,” Tom replied. 

They didn't need to say anything more.


End file.
